The mental image of the map remained sharp in my consciousness: my own small, nascent dungeon, and the angry, spiked skull representing the Blood Pit looming to the north.
FaeLina floated beside me, her arms crossed. Her panic had finally cooled into a state of intense, analytical scrutiny. The grudging respect she'd shown me earlier was now warring with a lifetime of conventional dungeon training.
"So," she began, "what, precisely, does your master plan of 'more pillows' entail? Are we going to smother them in their sleep? Is that the grand strategy?"
Not exactly, I projected, a blueprint for my dungeon already forming in my mind. The Blood Pit thrives on fear, aggression, and pain. We will not engage them on their terms. We will engage them on ours.
"Which are...?"
Superior customer satisfaction, I stated plainly. Why would an adventurer risk life and limb in a dark, bloody hole full of spikes when they could pay a small fee to have the best nap of their life here? We are not going to fight their dungeon; we are going to make it obsolete. This is economic warfare.
FaeLina was silent for a long moment. "That," she said finally, "is the most bizarre and cowardly declaration of war I have ever heard. I am morbidly fascinated to see how it fails."
It won't fail, I thought, and began to spend my hard-earned Dungeon Points. I wasn't just buying items this time. I was thinking bigger.
[Excavate New Floor (Floor 2)? Cost: 100 DP.]
Confirm.
The entire dungeon shuddered, a deep, resonant tremor that felt less like an earthquake and more like a gentle stretch. The floor of the main chamber began to descend, not crumbling away, but sinking smoothly into the earth like a slow, magical elevator. When it stopped, a gracefully carved stone staircase stood where there had once been solid ground, leading down into a new, cavernous space below.
FaeLina's eyes were wide. "A second floor? Already? Mochi, most new cores can't generate enough resources for a major excavation for months! Your nap-based economy is... alarmingly effective."
I didn't reply, already focused on populating my new space. This would not be a floor of traps or combat. This would be the heart of my cozy empire. I designated it "The Hibernation Hollows."
[Construct 'Private Napping Alcove' x 4? Cost: 40 DP.]
[Summon Monster: 'Pillow Fiend' x 8? Cost: 40 DP.]
Four small, curtained-off alcoves materialized along the walls of the new floor, each just large enough for a few people to rest in privacy. Then, with a series of soft poofs, the new "monsters" appeared inside them. They were, essentially, enormous, ridiculously plush floor pillows, stitched from soft, velvety fabric. They wiggled slightly, expectantly.
"You named them Pillow Fiends?!" FaeLina squeaked, flying down to poke one. The pillow wiggled happily in response. "They are the least fiendish things I have ever seen in my entire existence! They look like they belong in a baby's nursery!"
The name is ironic, I explained. It adds character.
I wasn't done. The ambiance was just as important as the amenities.
[Install Ambient Effect: 'Gentle Lullaby'? A soft, ethereal music that encourages deep sleep. Cost: 15 DP.]
[Install Ambient Effect: 'Enchanted Starlight Ceiling'? The ceiling glimmers with a soft, shifting starfield. Cost: 20 DP.]
A gentle, humming melody filled the lower floor, and the stone ceiling above transformed into a breathtaking, slowly rotating canopy of glittering stars. The Hibernation Hollows were complete. It was a masterpiece.
FaeLina drifted silently through the new level, her expression unreadable. She ran a tiny hand along the wall of an alcove, watched the magical stars swirl above, and gently patted a Pillow Fiend, which vibrated with contentment.
"This," she said, her voice filled with a strange reverence, "is the most strategically confusing, economically baffling, and utterly tranquil dungeon floor I have ever witnessed. I don't know whether to report you to the Council or to take a nap myself."
I felt a deep sense of satisfaction. My DP was low again, but the investment was worth it.
Just as I was admiring my handiwork, the alert from the entrance chimed once more.
I focused my attention back on the first floor, just in time to see Gilda, the warrior from the Iron Gryphons, step inside. She was not alone. With her was a stern-faced, grey-bearded man in ornate guild armor. He held an official-looking scroll in one hand and surveyed my Tea Nook with a critical, calculating eye.
Gilda approached the center of the room. "Dungeon Core!" she called out. "I have returned with Guildmaster Peppin. He was... intrigued by my report. He wishes to discuss a formal contract."